Friday, October 28, 2011

How is it when you have only one small child, everything seems overwhelming? Getting to the grocery store requires Herculean effort, never mind pulling off a holiday. One that requires a costume. And bring treats to school? Holy cows. Why would anyone even expect this of you? Of course, you call in reinforcements. Thank god for sisters (in-law, in my case).

LG as a Lion. King of, well, everything.

Then your kid turns one. And it gets a little easier, but really the challenges just shifted. Now you have to wrestle someone into a costume, and if they don't want to be a lion at that precise moment, good luck with that.

Some how, with two, it got easier. Don't ask me how. I think it's magic of the dark variety. But taking both boys last year. Not really hard at all. Maybe it was the age, and not the number of kids. Who knows? All I know is that LG walked the whole way last year, and when we finally arrived back at my SILs house? Even I was tired from walking.

The little angel and the handsome devil.

This year? We'll see. The costumes are almost finished. The pumpkins are carved. Treats for school are purchased. Trick or treat arrangements are set. Halloween? I can handle this one. Don't ask about Christmas, though.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

this is just a figment of your imagination. Because God knows I have about 1,000 more important things to do than blog during my lunch hour. Like order the boys school lunches for November, or call the doctor. I'll get to those eventually, though. For now, time for you, some Random Thoughts, and Stacy (who should just declare Tuesday her day officially!)

-> We have officially survived many plagues at our house this month. EVERYONE had something. It was less than pleasant, but somehow we did not miss a single event. (Though we did bring an absolutely miserable little o to a birthday party this weekend. What? Like you've never done it? He wasn't contagious, for God's sake.)

-> When you call the gas company and tell them that you smell gas sometimes by your backdoor, they declare a "gas emergency" and rush to your house with the fire department. Then they yell at you for not calling them last Fall when you first smelled it, even if you don't smell it all the time. Don't ask me how I know this. Just call them when you smell gas. Trust me.

-> My kids think their vitamins are treats. It's hysterical. They beg to get a gummy "treat" every morning and afternoon. I'm screwed when they figure this whole thing out, aren't I?

-> This is what I parked next to this morning:

I almost parked one space over just in case wanted it's own space. It looked like it might threaten me with a strong NY accent.

-> LG has begun to swipe my phone and play angry birds. He's better than I am. Sunday I was singing the Veggie Tales song (because I can't get it out of my head). He corrected me on the words. When we watched later in the afternoon he said, "See, Mama, I was right. They say squash, not cucumber, in the song". I'm not sure whether or not I like this trend. Three is a little too young for children to outgrow their parents.

-> Top Three things I Hate About the Cold Weather:

1. Tangled laundry. With short sleeves and shorts, the laundry is easy. Now that we have long sleeves and pants every thing gets tangled in the wash as it spins around, and you have to pull it all out carefully lest you stretch out and arm or a stocking leg. Blah. What a pain.

2. Having to step on the cold bathroom floor in the morning. You can keep the bathroom lights as dim as you want, but the minute you hit that cold tile floor you are AWAKE. again, blah.

3. Factoring in an extra 7-8 minutes to get out the door. In the warm weather it's "Get your sandals on, we're leaving." Find sandals, put on, leave. In the cold weather it's "Get on your shoes and coats, we're leaving. What do you mean you can't find your socks? Why did you take them off? Why are you wearing his fleece? Don't put your socks on your hands!" Grumble, grumble, grumble.

-> I am loving Christina Ricci in Pan Am. I wasn't sure I'd like it, but yup, I do. Definitely one of my favorite new shows.

-> Little o has discovered how to play the blond card. When he wants to, he'll completely ignore what you've asked him to do and simply smile sweetly and bat his eye lashes until you do it for him. I've asked the teachers at school and they've fallen victim to it, too. If he starts to flip his hair and giggle, it's all over.

-> We took our weekend guest to the Cleveland Museum of Art over the weekend. This is the only picture I took. I'm not sure how armor counts as art, but it was fun. Uhm, the other art was, too, I swear.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Ok, I won't get into where I've been for the last week. You don't want to know. But I'm here, and I've managed to hook myself up with Grandma, over at Grandma's Goulash again this Monday! The rules are less than 120 for a Microfiction.

Edith was so embarrassed. No matter where she took Eddie, he always managed to make a scene. Ewww. (that's an even 100 right there, thanks).

Friday, October 7, 2011

Ahhh, to dream. Jenn over at Sprite's Keeper wants us to describe a dream date. One we've had, or one we want. So all week, I've been mulling over the dream date.

My first thought is of Fantasy Island. Remember that 70's sitcome with Mr. Rourke and Tattoo? Where someone would come to the island and talk about their "fantasy" and it would come "true" only to find out how horrible that would be and them wanting to rush back on the plane and go home? 70's TV did a lot to shape how I think of the world. Not all of it positive.

I've been on some rather nice dates, but nothing that people would dream about. Posh places with good looking mens and all. But not the stuff dreams are made of. So, nix writing about any of them.

Onward, then to the dream of the future. Some place I want to go, something I want to do, someone I really want to spend time with. I had a few ideas, but I keep coming back to the same place.

I'm so tired, and it's been so long since both PB and I could take a whole evening off that all I want is a nice night of sitting on the couch with him. Boys quietly up in bed, some of our favorite shows on the Tivo, and two pints of Ben and Jerry's (Midnight Snack for me, Chubby Hubby for him). No worrying about if the amount of the bill is in our budget, no needing to get back to a sitter, or worrying if everyone went to sleep ok. No feeling bad because most of what we talk about when we're alone is the boys, or the project list, or work. (do you do that? do you go out and feel like you should forget all your daily woes and enjoy your self only to find out that you'd rather just be talking about the day to day krappe?) Just PB, and I, a kitty keeping us snuggly, and maybe an episode of Chuck. We'd laugh, eat ice cream and snuggle. The best part of this dream, it that it stands a high chance of coming true. Maybe not for another few weeks, but soon.

I was going to skip this story, but meh, you're still here, so I'll tell it. PB and I went out for our anniversary a few weeks ago. To a restaurant we've wanted to try for a few years. Their schedule is... inconvenient for us, though. The stars aligned, and our sitter offered, so we got to go. Best. Steak. In. Ohio. Hands down. And while we were there, after the usual talk about school, tests, the boys, the house and other sundry krappe, we had an interesting "dream" discussion. PB wants to build a greenhouse in our backyard some day. He wants to grow "exotics" and he hopes I'll come along for the trip, because I can grow a mean violet when I'm motivated. Which is funny because I would love a butterfly garden (which has to be indoors since we live in Ohio). How fun would that be? The two of us out in our greenhouse puttering around in December with our plants. I throw this out there since we're talking about dream dates. And I'm pretty sure I'd never fit this in anywhere else.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

I don't talk much about my work. Mostly because there's not a whole heck about the work to talk about. What is rather interesting is the family I work for. I've blogged before about the three brothers. But I don't mull over them frequently. I do think quite frequently about one of their off spring.

The oldest brother has kind of a sad family story (apart from his amazing brothers). He and his wife led wonderful lives, but their children- not so much. Their only daughter "died" when she was only 25. No one here is quite sure how. Mysterious illness (it was in the 60's, so this is completely possible). Suicide? Could be. We'll never know, I'm sure. It's their son I think about, though.

Here is a young man who would have had the world. His father was a billionaire business man. He flew from NY to Cleveland to Florida to Europe on whims. His mother was a beauty. But their only son has Down Syndrome. Rather severely, if the doctors reports are accurate. He will permanently be 4 years old. Now, this in itself does not make me sad. I know a few people with Down Syndrome who I think live really happy, fulfilling lives. (one makes eyes at LG during church each week.) This boy had led quite a sad life, though. At least to me, it's sad.

Because he was born in the 50's, the doctors convinced his well to do parents that he would be much better off in an institution. They couldn't possibly care for him in their home. He'd be happier at a "facility". And so he has been. For the last 60 years. He's lived at a few places, all rather posh, but still institutions. He never had known a "family" life. Which gives me a pit in my stomach. His father used to visit him regularly (at least monthly), but since he's passed, cousins and sometimes his Aunt go visit "when they can". They send gifts on his birthday, and holidays. But they are not there to see him open them. He lives with nurses, and health aids. His friends are other people who mostly do not know a life at home. They all have each other, which is something I guess.

But when I think of him, my heart sinks. Because he has the mind of a 4 year old. Which is an amazing thing. LG is not yet 4. He understands family. He understands home. And I don't mean as a building. He understands that home means comfort, and Mama and Papa, home means good smells and hugs and little brothers and being safe. He knows that home is not just a place. He knows that he feels different about home than he does about school. (side note: for the first time in his life, last week LG realized that when he felt sick, all he really wanted was to go home) At 4, you understand feelings. At 4 you know you are a person separate from your parents. You begin to understand the world. You can feel hurt, or slighted, or insulted. When you say, "He has the mental capacity of a 4 year old." it doesn't really sound like much. Unless you know a 4 year old. 4 year olds dream amazing things. Airplane rides and jungle adventures. When you're 4, everything is possible. And when someone tells you it's not? 4 year olds don't really understand that.

It kills me to think that this poor little boy (because even though he's nearing retirement, he will always be a little boy) has lived his whole life taken care of by strangers. That he relies on their kindness to make him feel better when he's sick, or feel special on his birthday. I see people with special needs all the time, with their families. You hear the stories on the news of their success. But here's a little boy, with all the money in the world, but no one to really love him. And quite frankly, though I never had the chance to meet his mother, I can not for the life of me understand how she let this happen.

I have tried to write this post at least 4 times today, only to get distracted the minute I open my web browser. But not this time. This time I actually got Blogger open. And I'm typing. Ha!

-> Two Saturdays ago PB and his brother and brother in law started to put a new roof on the garage. They were up there ALL DAY. In the mean time, laundry got done, LG went to a birthday party and life continued. People wandered in and out all day. Messes were made, some were cleaned. My MIL came to watch little o. My SIL came to, well, frankly, she came to hang out, I think. All was good and right. Except for the guys on the roof, we had a good time. Then Sunday morning came. The roof was not finished. The house was a mess. MB was slightly peeved at the situation. Not so nice thoughts passed through the badger mind. Then I realized I hadn't had coffee yet. Problem remedied. Suddenly, the roof became "mostly done" and the mess was cleaned with no further grumping. It never fails to amaze me how caffeine can improve my mood. My kids become cuter, my job is almost enjoyable and unicorns fart rainbows wherever I go...

Is this what they call smoldering?

-> Our house project list (the one we started when we moved in) will be reduced by two large projects at the end of the month. We will have a new roof on the garage (see above) and a new pool fence. I hate this list. Mostly because it started with 5 or 6 items, and almost all of them are still there. They are BIG items. And something else always comes up that needs the money. "We're doing the back deck next summer." Becomes, "Well, we need a new snow blower and two trees need to be removed." This list is my nemesis.

Every one's all American...

-> Hallelujah, we have a convert. Last winter I dragged a semi-willing PB into the land of the CSA. He griped. He worried. It was expensive, and did we really need all those vegetables? Would we remember to pick it up? All worries I said I would take care of, I promised I would make good. As with many experiments this year, he let it happen mostly because he doesn't have the time or the energy to argue with me. BUT, I did make good. To the point that this conversation happened last week:

MB: I'm kind of sad that this is our last CSA pick up.
PB: Our last? I thought they went until the end of October!!!
MB: No, they go until we get the poundage they promised. We're actually about 10 lbs over.
PB: Well, next year I think we should change it a bit.
MB: You didn't like #####'s? I thought it was a good deal. And convenient.
PB: No, no, we'll do theirs again. Do we need another, though? I hear they have some in town that have different stuff. We need to talk to my parents, too. Maybe get a full share and ####'s and split it with them?
MB: silent. maybe on floor, in shock. The man who has been quoted saying, "Vegetables aren't food. They're food for food." wants to join not one, but two CSAs next year.

-> I love listening to my co-workers complain about the weather. We're inside for 10 out of the 12 daylight hours of the day. Why does it matter if it's raining? You wouldn't be able to enjoy the sunshine anyway...